


Where You Belong

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boredom, Coronavirus Quarantine, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: You're bored. Rowena doesn't care.
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Where You Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [ this prompt.](https://drink-it-write-it.tumblr.com/post/186322930072/no-you-dont-even-know-what-i-was-gonna-say)

As soon as you stepped foot in the living room, Rowena, sparing you a brief glance before lowering her eyes back to the thick grimoire in her hands, said, "No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" you protested.

"I don't have to — I can see it on your face," she said nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather. Which was horribly sunny, given your predicament. "And the answer is _no."_

"You're no fun," you whined, pouting. She paid you no mind, uninterested in your antics, only letting out a small scoff to let you know she'd heard you and she was not going to play along.

She could be _so_ mean sometimes. Jokingly, you wished you'd never fallen in love with her, though you knew it was impossible not to. As flawed as she was, the woman was so damn lovable! Even if she put on an act to convince people otherwise. You'd seen right through her, and still could. Once you'd seen Rowena's sweet, gentle side, you couldn't forget it. In your eyes, it would always be her. The true her. The cold, bitter walls she'd built to protect herself nothing but a see-through shell, hiding the gem that laid within.

You sat down next to her on the couch. "I'm bored."

With the coronavirus going around and quarantine encouraged, almost imposed, there was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. You and Rowena, powerful witches each in your own right, weren't at risk. Even if you were to get infected, magic would take care of it. Still, better safe than sorry.

The two of you had stocked up on food and other necessities weeks ago. Not in fear of the virus (Rowena did _not_ appreciate your jokes that, being almost four hundred years old, she was at the highest risk of complications), but rather because people were buying like crazy and stores were quickly running out of the most important stuff. Now, you were packed for weeks. No need to leave the house.

Even the Winchesters had taken a break from hunting. The brothers had generously offered you and Rowena shelter in the Bunker. The two of you had declined, your house quite safe thanks to the protective spells you'd cast, but you appreciated the gesture. If it came to the worst (you doubted it but, but just in case), you were always welcome in their home.

"That sounds like a you problem," Rowena said dryly, not taking her eyes off her grimoire.

You pouted, feigning offense. "I wanna hang out with you."

"I don't."

"Meanie."

"I would like to read my grimoire in peace." She paused. Took a breath, two, three. _"Please."_

Like that was going to work. If anything, it made you more persistent. "You've read it like a hundred times already!"

"This one is new," Rowena said. "I traded a dried heart of mandragora for it."

Of course she did.

"You can read it later."

"I want to read it now."

There was no bargaining with her. Didn't mean you wouldn't try. "Please, sweetie? I've got nothing to do."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Read a book."

"I'm not in the mood." You thought you would be, that being quarantined would be a perfect opportunity to read some of the books you'd accumulated, but you couldn't get yourself to do it. You couldn't get yourself to do pretty much anything. "I wanna be with you."

She scoffed. "And I want fillet mignon from my favourite restaurant, but I can't get that, can I?"

"Not my fault it's closed," you said with a shrug.

"Not the point, dear."

You groaned. _"Pleeeeease."_ It was the whine of a wounded dog and a spoiled child. Usually a perfect weapon; Rowena was quite susceptible to it. When she wanted to be. Which she didn't seem to at the moment. "Wena." Cutesy nickname; weapon number two. Then, puppy eyes, and, "I need you."

She groaned, exasperated. On the verge of defeat.

You leaned your head on her shoulder. "I love you," you said softly. Exactly the way it warmed her heart to hear. "Baby girl.".

Rowena sighed. Beaten. Defeated. She slammed the grimoire shut and shot you a look that had killed before, the kind that was worse than a glare and froze the blood in the veins of anyone who dared slight her. You'd stopped fearing her ages ago; you doubted you ever truly did. Even back when she was a wicked witch, you knew there was more to her than met the eye. She couldn't scare you, no matter how hard she tried.

By now, it had become a game of sorts. She would glare. You would act nonchalant. It felt good to be the only one who wasn't afraid of her, the only one she trusted enough to let them not be afraid. You were certain she liked it, as well. Not many people dared challenge her, push her buttons for the mere sake of pushing them. You stood up to her, and she seemed to enjoy it.

Since day one, you treated her like a person. She held grudges, but she also remembered the good things. The positive things. Gratitude, though not expressed in words, was something she held on to.

"You're a menace, you know that?" she said in a tone that was too exaggerated to be true irritation.

You grinned. "But I'm _your_ menace."

She sighed dramatically. "I have made a horrible mistake."

"Aw," you groaned with a pout, "you know you love me."

She eyed you for a moment. Forced her lips into a straight line to hide the smile threatening to spill over. "Maybe."

Her arm slid around you, hand gently rubbing your forearm. You snuggled closer, enjoying the sensation. Nerves calming under the soft, gentle caress of her skin across yours. This was the Rowena you loved. Sweet. Tender. Warm underneath the ice.

"I'm glad we're together," you said. "I wouldn't wanna be quarantined with anyone else."

"Me as well, dear," Rowena said after a few moments of silence. "Even if you sometimes make me want to set myself on fire again. Willingly."

"That's dark."

She chuckled. "My annoying wee girl."

"My wicked witch-bitch," you teased. She lightly smacked your arm. "Ow! No violence!"

"You deserved it." Her head leaned on top of yours. "What is it you would like to do?"

"I don't know," you admitted. You wanted to be with her. Or rather, wanted her to entertain you for you couldn't do it yourself. "Cuddle, I guess?"

She put her other arm around you. "Sounds good to me."

"And after, do you think we could—"

"No."

"But—"

"I have made myself clear, Y/N."

 _Damn it!_ There was no changing her mind, it seemed.

Oh, well.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, and then you laid down. Her arms never left you. You nestled in her embrace, in her warmth, and soon your eyes fell closed and a nap took you over.

When you woke up an hour later, Rowena was still there, still holding you with love in her eyes.

Being with her was right. True. Exactly where you belonged.

You wouldn't change it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by miss-moon-guardian.


End file.
